


If the Sun Would Come Out & Sing With Me

by imalright



Series: When the Day Met the Night [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic Fluff, House Hunting, M/M, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning, adults with adult problems and adult solutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22855138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imalright/pseuds/imalright
Summary: Felix is under the impression they’re engaged three years after their reunion.Felix is incredibly surprised when Sylvain drops to one knee, on the concrete, under the incredible green canopy of the cafe where he got that stupid beet sandwich and Sylvain looked unfairly good with mustard dripping down his chin.Epilogue part two for Moon & Golden You — thanks so much for 1k kudos!
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: When the Day Met the Night [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643044
Comments: 30
Kudos: 265





	If the Sun Would Come Out & Sing With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for 1,000 kudos!  
> Here's epilogue #2 for Moon & Golden You

Felix is under the impression they’re engaged three years after their reunion.

“Mm, why are your hands so cold.”

It’s not so much a question, Felix knows, as it is an observation. And it’s not so much that Felix’s hands are cold, but rather that Sylvain is always extremely, extremely warm. He lays his palms flat against Sylvain’s chest to really drive the point home.

“Nooooo,” he whines. Felix lightly digs his nails in and snuggles in closer. Sylvain groans, content.

They stay like that for awhile; silent, close, loving, each waking slowly and contently until Sylvain finally turns and runs a hand through Felix’s hair.

“Hey,” his voice comes out low and warm, quiet, comforting, “Do you remember what we talked about that one time?”

Felix pinches Sylvain’s nose. “No.”

Sylvain continues talking as if nothing happened, all nasally and stupid. “You know. We wanted to get married. Eventually.”

Felix lets go of his nose in shock.

“I — yeah? I guess?”

Sylvain nods. “Do you still wanna?”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Sylvain kisses his cheek, and down his neck, over his chest and torso and Felix is groaning and grinding into him until he comes down his throat and Sylvain gets to work refreshing the marks on his inner thigh while he still sinks in the afterglow.

* * *

Felix is incredibly surprised when Sylvain drops to one knee, on the concrete, under the incredible green canopy of the cafe where he got that stupid beet sandwich and Sylvain looked unfairly good with mustard dripping down his chin. He could wax poetic about how golden they both were, but that’s kind of gross.

“Felix,” Sylvain has to remind him, “The concrete is really hard.”

Felix can’t help himself. He snorts.

“Feliiiix,” Sylvain whines.

“Aren’t we already engaged,” he points out. Sylvain stares at him, bewildered.

“Uh, no?”

“We agreed to get married, though. Six months ago.”

Sylvain blinks and does not move from his position on the concrete.

“...You don’t remember.”

“Felix, I have  _ definitely _ not proposed to you before.”

“We proposed to each other! I — ugh!”

Felix stands and grabs Sylvain by the collar and pulls him up into a crushing kiss. When they part and Felix looks at the string lights reflected in his eyes like little golden stars, like speckles of mustard from his disgusting sandwich, and  _ fuck _ he’s been gone for years already, may as well go for a little more.

“Marry me,” he demands, bratty and catty and he doesn’t give a shit. The smile on Sylvain’s face is enough for him.

“Done,” he says. Done, Felix feels. Done, the cafe staff say when things get too spicy at their table.

They’re not done. They’ll never  _ be  _ done. They return to the two bedroom apartment they signed for two years ago, stuffed full of shelving and film equipment and samples and a love that’s so very  _ them _ it fills their hearts with soul and their bodies with heart and they kiss, they kiss and  _ kiss _ and touch and whisper and scream their love and Felix thinks maybe, maybe he’ll finally blow his inheritance on a house where the neighbors won’t slam on the wall just when things are getting good.

“Let’s get a house,” Felix says in a post sex haze. Their legs are still tangled together. Sylvain’s hair is still plastered to his forehead.

“A house?”

“Yeah, a house.”

“That’s a lot of money,” Sylvain breathes out. He’s almost asleep.

“Yeah,” Felix confirms.

When Felix wakes it’s with Sylvain’s lips pressed against his forehead and with a hand on his waist and another tangled with his own. The cool metal of his new ring, black tungsten with inlays of a deep, rich wood, really reinforces the whole  _ engaged _ thing. He gets it, now, that they weren’t engaged before. Not really.

“Morning,” Sylvain greets. He sounds much more awake than Felix feels.

“You’ve been up awhile,” he points out. He feels Sylvain smile against his forehead.

“I have,” he says, “I’ve been reaching out to some old contacts.”

“Hm.”

“What, you’re not gonna ask me who?”

Felix grunts. “Who, then.”

“Well, I called Dorothea —”

Felix’s free hand makes its way into Sylvain’s hair.

“— and asked if she knows anyone.”

“Dorothea knows a lot of people,” Felix mumbles. He pulls Sylvain’s hair and leads him into a deep, lazy kiss. When they part Sylvain speaks with their lips just barely touching.

“That’s why I called her,” he says with a smirk, “She said Professor Manuela got fed up with college kids and got a real estate license a year or two ago.”

“So?”

_ “So,” _ Sylvain suppresses a laugh, “We can call her, and she can help us tour houses for sale.”

“Houses?”

“Felix.” Sylvain pats the top of his head and he swats his hand away. “You  _ just _ said you want to buy a house.”

Felix thinks really, really hard. “When.”

“Uh, last night? Definitely last night.”

All Felix can remember from the night before is —

“Oh, shit,” he says, “We’re engaged.”

Sylvain laughs, his entire body shaking, and pulls Felix in. Felix huffs. He leans in, anyway.

“We’re engaged,” Sylvain murmurs into his ear, “And you want to buy a house.”

He nods into Sylvain’s neck. 

“So I called Manuela. She’s available next week.”

Felix nods again. He’s glad Sylvain can’t see just how shell-shocked he feels.

“She wants us to come up with a budget,” Sylvain continues. He rubs firm circles into Felix’s back as he speaks. “We need to be ready to look outside the city. We can’t afford a house in Derdriu.”

Felix takes a deep breath and leans back to search Sylvain’s face. “What are you talking about?”

Sylvain raises an eyebrow. Felix continues.

“What do you mean we can’t afford a house in Derdriu?”

Sylvain smiles sheepishly. “Fe, your job is great, but it’s not making you rich. And ad money and sponsors aren’t reliable, even if  _ I _ get rich.”

Felix takes a moment to judge the situation. Sylvain almost looks embarrassed. He lightly punches him on the shoulder.

“Did you forget,” he sighs, “About all the money I got from selling the Fraldarius business?”

Sylvain blinks. It certainly seems like he forgot.

“Sylvain, I haven’t spent  _ any _ of that. Or, well, hardly any. We can buy damn near any house you want.”

“I — what?” Sylvain’s voice pitches high. “Any house  _ I _ want? Felix…”

“We’re getting married,” he grumbles, “It’s not like you’re marrying me for my money.”

He doesn’t mean for it to cut deep. His gut sinks at the flash of hurt behind Sylvain’s eyes.

“Of course not — Felix —”

“That wasn’t an accusation,” he snaps, “We’re getting married. We’re buying a house. We’re…  _ ugh, _ we’re  _ domestic.” _

For some fucking reason  _ that’s _ what makes Sylvain shine.

“Wow,” he breathes, “We’re  _ domestic.” _

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

And Sylvain kisses him. He’s swept into his orbit for the millionth time and melts into his hold, allows his lips to form against Sylvain’s and oh  _ fuck _ this is his future. This is his entire future. When they break apart and he breathes in his entire world is Sylvain’s morning breath and post-sex stink. It’s rank. He loves it.

“I’m going to call Manuela right now,” Sylvain says. He leans their foreheads together. Felix can’t think of anything to say, so he kisses him. That’s enough for them both.

* * *

Within a week Manuela is dragging them from house to house. Sylvain runs around the city with her to see several houses several times a day, and any that exceed Sylvain’s incredibly low standards are shown to Felix in the evening or over the weekend.

“The cabinets are ugly,” he points out. They’re basically red. Laminate, so painting them would be a disaster. If he’s totally honest he doesn’t mind the shape, but the saturated red is so hideous and so shiny he doesn’t think he can stand it.

“We can paint those,” Sylvain says.

_ “You _ can paint those,” he snarks back, “I don’t have the time. And I don’t want to look at these. They’re disgusting.”

It has other issues; no bathtub, for one. The windows are too small. The second bedroom is so large Sylvain could set up his office alongside a guest bed and then they’d never see each other. But those damn  _ cabinets. _

Felix doesn’t even go inside the next one.

“I don’t want a townhouse,” he says. The bratty stomp is evident in his voice. Sylvain pouts. Manuela rolls her eyes. “The entire point is I don’t want our neighbors — ugh. You know what? Nevermind.”

Sylvain barely represses a snort. Manuela walks away.

“Right, right, sorry,” Sylvain laughs. “I got so excited over the price, you know?”

“Stop being cheap,” Felix grumbles. He kisses Sylvain on the cheek and follows Manuela back to her car.

“Their bed doesn’t fit in this room and they  _ live _ here,” Felix points at the not-very-large bed in the next house with hardly any space on either side.

This time it’s Manuela who groans. Frankly, he’s surprised it took her this long to snap.

“Felix,” she rubs her temples, “With a budget like yours, in a location like this, you have to make some compromises.”

Felix narrows his eyes and looks at Sylvain. Sylvain puts his hands up in surrender.

“What did you tell her our budget was?”

He grins sheepishly. Felix turns back to Manuela.

“Whatever he told you our budget was, double it.”

Her eyes widen.  _ “Double _ it?”

“Double it.”

It’s like she’s been given a second wind; she pulls out her phone, scrolls, and raises her eyebrows.

“How about I show you something  _ he _ hasn’t seen?” she asks, jerking her head at Sylvain.

“Let’s go.”

They only drive a few blocks this time. In the backseat of Manuela’s sedan Sylvain’s bouncing his leg and fidgeting around with his hands. Felix sighs and places a hand on his knee. Sylvain does not stop bouncing his leg.

“It’s fine,” he mutters. Sylvain exhales shakily. “Why are you so nervous?”

“It’s a big deal,” he mutters back. Felix can really see the panic in his eyes, the way he glances up and looks back down almost immediately. “It’s just… it’s a big commitment, you know?”

“What, buying a house with me? Fine, I won’t put you on the deed.”

“Buying a house  _ at all!” _ He takes a deep breath in, and a deep breath out. Felix squeezes his knee. “What if we hate it after we’re there for six months? What if we want to move? What if —”

“Sylvain.”

This time when he looks up he holds eye contact and  _ Felix _ looks away.

“It’ll be fine,” he says. “Everything will be fine.”

Sylvain doesn’t seem to be entirely convinced. When they climb out of the car and stand in front of a small house with a single car garage and small front yard, he grabs Felix’s hand and fidgets with his fingers. Manuela gives Sylvain a concerned once-over and seems to completely change her game plan in the space of ten seconds.

“This house was fixed up, oh, ten years ago,” she says, “Papers say it may need a new water heater soon, but the expensive stuff — roof, heat, central A/C, really hard to get around here — with proper maintenance it’ll be good for awhile.”

Felix nods and squeezes Sylvain’s hand.

“Four bedrooms, three bathrooms,” she continues. Felix doesn’t love that bedroom count, but at least it’s not shit ugly. “At least one of those bedrooms has been converted into an office. Well, whatever. Nevermind. Words mean nothing. Let’s go inside.”

Manuela was never Felix’s favorite professor, but he can appreciate her ability to cut through the crap when she needs to. She leads them up a concrete pathway and through the front door.

“The fridge is in a stupid spot,” Felix points out immediately. He’s not wrong; the fridge  _ is _ in a stupid spot. He can see the small galley kitchen from the entry, and he can see the fridge in the next fucking room. Manuela throws her arms up and walks right back out.

The next one looks much more promising. Solar panels line the porch roof and several are installed as awning over the window. A single car garage is parked underneath a small deck and its intricate metal railings are decorated with various flowers in full bloom.

Felix knows there’s bad news ahead when Manuela sighs in the front door.

“Is it parquet throughout?” Felix asks with a sneer. Sylvain snorts.

“Probably,” she sighs and walks back out.

* * *

“So, for our wedding planner —”

_ “We absolutely do not need a wedding planner.” _

Sylvain smirks. “Oh, so you want to plan the wedding? Or maybe you should let me plan the wedding, we all know I’m great at that.”

Felix lays his head down on the table. “Can’t we just go to a courthouse?”

Sylvain hums. “Nope. Dimitri got a wedding. I want a wedding.”

“You’re such a brat.”

“Ah, a brat for a brat. What a pair we make.”

* * *

Manuela no longer shows Sylvain houses without Felix.

This time she sends Felix a long list of links that he shoots down one by one. He tells her to double the budget again. She asks if there is a budget. He says not really. He gives her explicit instructions to not tell Sylvain the price. She agrees.

“Uh, Felix?” Sylvain’s voice is quiet. “This house has  _ pillars.” _

Felix snorts. “Yeah. They’re ugly.”

Manuela raises a threatening eyebrow at him. He shrugs.

“You okayed this one,” she mumbles and leads them inside.

He realizes very, very quickly the carpet is a much brighter red than anticipated. And peeling it back just reveals old, discolored subfloor.

“No,” Felix says. Nobody’s surprised. Sylvain looks positively horrified.

The next house is two doors down. No garage, but that’s fine.

Unfortunately for Felix, Manuela, and Sylvain, the photos didn’t include the horrendous grecian-inspired bathroom. Heavy quotation marks around both “grecian” and “inspired” are necessary. Felix takes one look at the horrendous laminate inlays and walks back to the front door.

“You’d think,” he mutters, “With this much money, they’d be able to hire a photographer worth their salt.”

“Hey, Felix.”

He turns to look at Sylvain. “What.”

“Their hot and cold water was backwards.”

He stares. Manuela stares. Sylvain grins.

“Even rich people fuck up their plumbing.”

This startles a laugh out of Felix, which gets Sylvain laughing as well. Fuck, why is this so fucking frustrating.

“The next one’s small,” Manuela interrupts them. “Keep in mind, Felix. You okayed this one.”

He nods. For some reason this makes Sylvain laugh even harder.

The next small house is, for lack of a better word,  _ cute. _ No garage, again, but there’s a single carport and that’s enough for him. A small front lawn spattered with dandelions cut by a concrete path to the front door leads his eyes up to a short brick house with gingerbread details on the trimmings and shutters painted cyan around the windows.

“Alright, boys. Two bedrooms and a den. Two bathrooms. Think you can handle it?” Manuela looks absolutely done with them. 

“Size isn’t the problem.” Sylvain laughs next to him and Felix turns to glare. “You’re disgusting.”

“Yes, yes, whatever. Let’s just go inside.”

Felix remembers the listing photos as soon as they walk inside. The previous owners have already moved out; it’s easy to see the shape and size of the hall leading into a large living room painted white with freshly polished hardwood floors. Sylvain whistles.

“Fancy,” he says. Felix silently snickers at his stupid joke. They know fancy. They left it behind in their parents’ gated community.

Manuela doesn’t speak, she only drags her feet down the hall and gestures around her. The living room opens to a kitchen with an unnecessarily large fridge and a very necessarily large island; the entire room is lined with windows and a large door leading to a small backyard; built-in shelves sit in every inch of wallspace not already occupied.

“Wow,” is all Felix says. 

Manuela leads them to a three-quarter bath near the kitchen and up the stairs. Felix’s rare positive reaction seems to breathe life into her again; she’s speaking, at the very least.

“The master’s through there —” she starts and is cut off by Sylvain’s obnoxious ringtone. He pulls his phone out and his brows furrow together.

“Sorry, I need to take this,” Sylvain smiles apologetically and rushes out the front door. Felix blinks. Manuela waves him off.

“Don’t worry, he wouldn’t like this room anyway,” Manuela winks at Felix and leads him the other way down the hall. “The owner of this house is something of a collector, and they haven’t had a chance to clear this room. Of course, this will all be removed, but I don’t want Sylvain getting squeamish.”

She opens an unassuming wooden door to a small office lined with shelves absolutely  _ covered _ with preserved specimens, skulls and bones from various animals of varying age and size, reference books both antique and modern, and notebooks upon notebooks, all beaten to shit. 

“Wow,” Felix says. It’s the perfect room for this type of collection — a single small window is covered with a blackout curtain, and it looks like the owner of the house even installed low wattage lights to preserve the color in their specimens.

“Wow, indeed.” Manuela raises an eyebrow at him. “I get the impression this is the sort of thing you’d like. You work with animals, right?”

Felix chooses not to point out that most people working with animals dislike seeing dead ones. She’s right, though. He nods.

“I doubt the smell will disappear so easily,” she says and Felix very quickly recognizes the stink of the preservation material, “But even if you don’t use this room for the same kind of thing, it’s lovely for storage.”

When Sylvain returns he’s out of breath and a little pink. Felix slams the door shut behind him.

“Uh, everything — okay in there?” Sylvain forces out between breaths. Felix flicks him between his brows.

“Everything okay  _ in there?” _

“Don’t worry about it.” Sylvain presses a kiss against his temple. Manuela rolls her eyes and leads them down the hall to the master suite, which is really just a big bedroom with a bigger closet. “Wedding stuff,” he whispers into Felix’s ear. “It’s all under control. Don’t worry.”

Felix trusts him, but he worries nonetheless.

She takes them through a smaller bedroom. Between the two is a bathroom with a tub of an actually respectable size, especially for this part of the city. Sylvain whistles. Felix doesn’t whistle, but he does in his heart.

“I like it,” is all Felix says at the end of the showing. Manuela raises her eyebrows.

“You… like it,” she repeats.

“Yeah.”

“So, do you want to buy it?”

“Obviously.”

Sylvain snorts. There’s a hint of panic under the noise that Felix ignores. Sylvain’s gotten so anxious about money since leaving his family and inheritance behind. He really should let Felix take care of it.

“Oh! That’s great. Lovely. Okay.” She pulls out her phone and scrolls and types and scrolls some more, “I need to get in contact with the listing agent. I’ll call when I hear back.”

“Okay.”

And, well, that’s that.

* * *

Felix isn’t sure whether to throttle Sylvain or worship the ground he fucking walks on.

“I’m so excited to spend more time together,” a certain excitable ginger who goes by the name  _ Annette _ damn near sings, “I haven’t seen Felix for more than a few hours since, what, since college?”

Felix grunts.

“Don’t be such a party pooper! This is  _ your wedding!” _

“I want to elope.”

_ “You do not want to elope!” _

“Guys, guys!” Felix glares at Sylvain, who’s about to say something incredibly annoying. “Calm down, there’s enough of me to go around!”

Felix hasn’t felt a camaraderie so strong since the last time he and Annette punched Sylvain at the same time.

“Ow.”

“Just stop talking,” she snaps. She folds her fingers together and looks very, very seriously at Felix. “Now, Felix, my dear friend, what kind of theme do you want for your lovely wedding to this baboon?”

“A courthouse theme.”

“I hate you.”

“Hey, I have an idea!”

“Nobody wants to hear your ideas. I bet they’re all gross.”

“I swear, if you say you want to  _ livestream our wedding —” _

_ “Sylvain! _ You wouldn’t!”

“Guys!” Sylvain laughs, “Calm down, let me talk!”

They stare at him in silence.

“Now, okay, tell me if this is too much.” Oh no. “But, well, okay. Our first date — well, I guess it wasn’t a  _ date, _ but our first lunch — was at this really sweet patio by the building I lived in at the time.”

They wait for him to continue.

“Right, well I also proposed there.”

Felix can’t see where he’s going with this. Annette gasps.

_ “Whatdiditlooklike.” _

Sylvain uses all manner of pretty words and hand flourishes to describe the hanging plants and trellises and soft lighting while Annette hastile scrawls notes into a leather bound bullet journal. She nods along, asks questions that make Felix even more confused, and by the end of it all he feels like a tornado swept past and all he could do was watch.

“Perfect, I love it,” Annette finally says. Felix has no idea what she loves. “Keep an eye out for my email.”

She runs out the door faster than Felix has ever seen her move. Sylvain rests a comforting hand on his lower back.

“What the hell was that?”

Sylvain chuckles. “You worry too much.”

“What’s going on? Are we going to the courthouse?”

Sylvain’s other hand meets Felix’s cheek and he says, “Did you know you’re gorgeous?”

“What the hell —”

And Sylvain kisses him, deep and full of love and future and everything. Just like the first time they did this all the thoughts leave Felix’s head and all he can think is  _ Sylvain Sylvain Sylvain. _ Sylvain’s hands, practiced and warm, caress his muscles, dick, and worries until he breathes easily, warm and secure in Sylvain’s arms.

He remembers what he was mad about the following morning.

“Shh, Fe,” Sylvain says lowly, raspily. “Just wait for a text from Annette. We hired her for a reason.”

Felix thinks back to Annette’s karaoke parties that had a tendency to end with someone ass naked.

“What  _ was _ that reason?”

“So you don’t have an aneurysm.” He kisses Felix’s forehead. “Go to work. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Work sucks. He’s tired. The moment he’s through the door Sylvain is pressing his lips on his cheeks, his forehead, his neck, his hands. He melts into it. Sylvain’s day was a hell of a lot easier than his, he can shoulder some of the load.

“Welcome home, fiancé,” he murmurs into Felix’s ear. His lips brush against him and he melts a little more.

Words aren’t necessary; Sylvain lifts Felix so his legs are wrapped around his hips and he takes a moment to press him against the front door and kiss, kiss,  _ kiss _ and surprises Felix by carrying him to the bathroom they were lucky to find with the deep, wide tub. He runs the water, dumps way too much bubble bath in, and while they wait for the tub to fill he takes his time removing each and every one of Felix’s layers and kissing every bit of skin he can reach. 

“I missed you.” He pulls Felix’s boxer briefs down and chews at his hip, his hollow, and the base of his dick. “I missed you.”

Felix strokes his hair, too tired for anything else. “I missed you, too.”

“Let me take care of you.”

“The water will get cold.”

Sylvain smiles against his half-hard dick and runs his tongue up the side and suddenly Felix doesn’t think he cares all that much. This really isn’t the ideal spot; the water’s still running (he shuts it off), the lip of the tub is uncomfortable against his ass (he grabs a towel), and Sylvain’s lips are wrapping around his dick and he does that  _ thing  _ with his tongue just under the head and he groans.

One hand lands in Sylvain’s hair and the other holds onto the edge of the tub, holding for dear life while Sylvain’s hands massage his inner thighs and press little bruises into his hips. He pulls off and licks down the side, using a thumb to gently press against the head like a  _ fucking tease _ and, shit, he bites down on his abs and he arches into the touch.

_ “Sylvain.” _

“Hm?”

_ “Quit teasing and hurry up, I want to get in the bath.” _

“Oh, why didn’t you just say so?”

Sylvain very gracefully lifts a struggling, edged Felix and  _ plunks _ him in the still-hot bubble bath.

* * *

“We got an update from Annette.” Sylvain pulls his phone out from…  _ somewhere _ and turns it to show Felix a collage, or a moodboard, whatever it is. He takes it and squints at the pictures.

“...What is this?”

Sylvain’s eyes sparkle and he says, “It’s a wedding board. Annette put it together, she wants to know if we like it.”

He scrolls up and down through the pictures; there’s a lot of wood and plants. String lights. Two dudes kissing.

“Do you like it?”

Sylvain nods.

Felix bites his lip.

“You’re thinking too hard.”

He groans. “I don’t want to choose  _ wrong.” _

For some reason this makes Sylvain snort.

“Ugh, shut up.”

“Fe, there’s no wrong answer. That’s the whole point.” He runs a hand through Felix’s hair and scratches at his scalp. It pulls some of the tension out. It’s nice. “Just tell me what you think and I’ll translate for Annette.”

He huffs and goes back to scrolling through. It’s… nice, he supposes. Garlands of leaves and lights, flowers in varying pastels. He lingers on a photo of two men in matching tuxedos standing hand in hand underneath a massive tree; surrounding them is fabric draped from the branches, light and warm.

“Yeah,” he decides, selecting the photo, “I do.”

* * *

“I don’t understand.”

A heavy sigh comes through the speaker on his phone. Sylvain looks at him, fiddling with his fingers and bouncing his legs. Felix glares at his phone like he can light it on fire and solve all his problems.

“I’m saying you have to offer more money —”

“Okay, offer more money.”

_ “Felix, listen.” _ Manuela’s exasperation is so normal to him at this point that he doesn’t even notice. “You’re not the only one that wants this house, and the inspection brought up issues we hadn’t even considered. I mean, the sewer line needs to be replaced and the basement needs asbestos abatement and —”

“So?”

“So you need to think long and hard about what the two of you want.”

Felix raises his eyes to Sylvain who shakes his head.

“This is too much money for me to think about,” he says, “I can’t think about it. I can’t make that choice. Don’t make me. I thought I was gonna be broke the rest of my life.”

Felix looks back at his phone and thinks for about two seconds, which is pretty long in his opinion.

“I want it.”

“...Fine. Fine. I’ll call you with what I think you’ll need to offer —”

“Just text it. I don’t care.”

“Felix, this is a lot of money.”

“I don’t care.”

“...I’ll call you anyway.” She hangs up. Felix tosses his phone away from himself and groans. 

“What’s the point of an inheritance if I can’t fucking spend it,” he mutters.

“...Dunno, dude.”

“I just want a house! I want to not share walls with anyone else! Is that too much to ask?!”

“It would be easier if we looked in a suburb —”

_ “Absolutely not.” _

* * *

The way Sylvain is looking at him sets him on edge. It’s his question face. His you’re-not-gonna-like-this face. He stares back and dares him. 

He takes the bait.

“Ingrid got ordained.”

Felix closes his eyes. “Does that mean what I think that means?”

“It meeeeans she can marry us instead of some crusty old priest.”

“Why would I want that?”

“Because she actually knows us.”

He opens his eyes again. Sylvain’s eyebrows are raised in a silent question. He sighs.

“Is that what you want?”

Sylvain nods.

“...Fine.”

* * *

“You’re letting Ingrid marry you? What about me?!”

Felix rubs his eyes. “You can both marry us. I don’t care.”

“Lysithea!” Sylvain smiles, “Making the cake is  _ much _ more important.”

“Don’t suck up to me, Gautier,” she snaps. She wipes her floury hands off on her apron with a heavy huff. “I better be invited.”

“You’re invited,” Felix says flatly.

“Good. Otherwise I wouldn’t make your cake. What do you want, anyway?”

Felix shrugs. “You know I don’t really care for cakes.”

“You care for  _ my _ cakes.”

“That’s why we’re here!” Sylvain says.

“You have a point, though,” she sighs and rests her chin in her hand. She didn’t get all the flour off. Felix doesn’t say anything. “Your tastes aren’t exactly traditional. A lot of people don’t care for spiced cakes.”

There’s silence between the three of them in the back office of Lysithea’s bakery as she considers this conundrum. Felix waits for her to figure it out. Sylvain pulls his phone out after two seconds and dicks around.

“What if,” she starts and the two of them snap to attention, “You had a cupcake bar?”

“A what,” Felix deadpans, but Sylvain understands immediately.

“Oh! Oh, that’s a great idea!” he says, “Then we can have your weird spicy cake  _ and _ chocolate!”

_ “And,” _ Lysithea sighs, “A few other options. Flavor doesn’t exist on a spectrum of spicy or chocolate, Sylvain. There’s a lot more.”

He shrugs.

“Normally I’d want to schedule a tasting,” she continues, “I can still do that, I guess, but Felix will hate everything and Sylvain will love everything.”

They both nod.

“Just let me choose them. I’ll make sure one is spiced and one is, uh, chocolate, and I’ll make two more.”

“Great. Are we done?”

Lysithea fixes Felix with a dead stare. A stare that can see a thousand miles. A stare that tells him to shut the fuck up.

“No.” She stands. “Be patient.”

Felix is anything but. Sylvain shows him some stupid meme that totally isn’t funny and he doesn’t laugh. He shows him another one. He pushes him away the third time.

“Those are stupid,” he bites with no bite. 

“But Fe, this one has a cat.”

He looks. It’s pretty good.

“Huh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile like that.”

Felix pushes Sylvain away again, this time with a scowl. Lysithea laughs, freely and openly like she didn’t when Felix first met her, before she was able to see a physical therapist (that Felix immediately paid for). She’s still giggling when she sets a slice of cake in front of Felix.

“That’s your congratulations gift,” she says, “You’d better appreciate it.”

He does.

* * *

“You want us to get married… in a greenhouse.”

Annette nods as if this is a totally, completely normal thing to say.

“Why.”

She turns her tablet around. Felix’s eyebrows fly up. Sylvain whistles.

“Wow,” he says. She nods.

“I thought this would be nice for your reception,” she explains. “There’s a roof, so if it rains it’s okay, but it’s clear so you’ll still get to see the sky! And we can string lights up like this,” she points at the soft string lights weaving back and forth against the roof, “And, hm, do you want long rows of tables or a bunch of circular tables?”

Felix shrugs.

“Long tables!” Sylvain decides. Annette writes this down.

“Long… tables… Okay, and we can run ivy down the center… Now, for the actual ceremony.” She folds her hands together. “What are you thinking?”

“I like the tree,” Felix says.

“The… the what?”

“The tree. The tree Sylvain showed me.”

Two gingers stare at him.

“The… tree.”

“Yes! What’s so hard about this!”

Sylvain pulls out his phone and sets it, open to a series of pictures, in front of Felix. “Find the tree and show us.”

He does. He finds the giant tree with fabric draped around its branches and shoves it toward Annette, who lights up.

“Oh! I love this one!” She scribbles some more notes down. “Great! Okay! I’ll get this rolling. Is the conservatory okay? For the ceremony and the reception?”

Felix shrugs.

“Yes!” Sylvain decides.

“Great. Oh, yay! I’m so excited for you two. I’ll call you with any updates.”

* * *

“Any news on the house?”

“For the last time, Felix, I will call you when there’s news on the house.”

Manuela hangs up. Felix frowns at his phone.

* * *

Everything moves forward far too fast. Felix is left blinking stupidly as save the dates and then invitations are sent. They agree on a small wedding with only their closest friends, but Sylvain has a lot of closest friends and Felix has two.

_ “Hilda Goneril? _ Why?”

“Hilda’s bros with Claude!”

_ “Claude? Von Riegan?” _

“Yeah!”

“Since when is he one of your closest friends?!”

“Whaaaat? Claude and I go way back.”

Rather than slamming his face into the table Felix gently rests his forehead against it. “You have literally never talked about being friends with Claude von Riegan.”

“Oh, well, we play board games together.”

Ah. Felix understands now. If he has to hear about Sylvain’s Twilight Imperium strategy again he’ll die.

“Claude can come,” he decides.

“And Hilda?”

He sighs. “And Hilda.”

* * *

“Felix Fraldarius, if you call me about the house one more time, I will quit.”

“Then get news!”

She sighs heavily. “How about I just talk to Sylvain again.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“I know.”

To Felix’s utter shock and horror, three hours later his phone lights up with  _ Manuela House. _

“Answer it,” Sylvain urges.

“I can’t.”

“Answer it!”

“I can’t!”

Sylvain answers it for him.

Silence.

“Um… hello?”

“Hello, Manuela!” Sylvain takes the lead while Felix stands frozen, “I’m delighted to hear your lovely voice.”

“Yes, yes, that’s great —”

“Do you have good news for us?”

She sighs. Felix’s heart sinks.

“They accepted your offer, boys. You have a house.”

Sylvain cheers. In his panic and sheer glee, Felix throws his phone across the room and dents the drywall.

* * *

Felix’s heart races at the sight of his tuxedo. He touches it. It’s real.

“Put it on,” Lysithea, his shocked cake-maker-turned-maid-of-honor urges. “And hurry up. You don’t want to make him wait, do you?”

Felix… kind of does.

“I see what you’re thinking and you’re not allowed to ruin my cupcakes.”

Felix snorts.

“Right, the cupcakes,” he muses. He does not move. Lysithea pushes him and  _ fine, _ he’ll put the damn thing on.

“Are you doing your hair?” she asks once he’s securely buttoned in. He runs a hand through his loose hair; it reaches to his collarbones now, and he’s quite fond of the way Sylvain stares at it.

“No,” he says. She shrugs.

“Hurry the fuck up!” Annette’s voice comes through the door, enunciated by her tiny fist pounding against the wood with each word. “You are  _ not _ ruining this day!”

Felix and Lysithea roll their eyes in tandem. He opens the door. She punches his chest. 

“About time, come on!”

She drags him to a small covered gazebo, shielded by curtains from anyone nosy enough to peek around. Lysithea helps him adjust his cuffs. He keeps fiddling with them anyway.

“Are you ready?” she asks.

“No.”

“Oh well.”

She pushes him and he very suddenly realizes music is playing and Sylvain is standing  _ right there, _ looking like a dream in his tacky golden tuxedo jacket. They freeze in tandem. Felix wills his tears down and fails horribly.

_ “Hurry up!” _ Annette hisses. Lysithea pushes him one more time, and someone pushes Sylvain. They get closer and Felix realizes Sylvain is tearing up, too.

They grasp hands.

“Ready?” Sylvain chokes out.

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Sucks to be you!” The familiar voice of Claude von Riegan cheers and they’re pushed in tandem toward the aisle where all their friends are seated on either side, staring at them. Felix swallows. Sylvain squeezes his hand and they walk down the aisle together to the swell of music. He looks around for a pianist. There’s a boombox.

He hardly sees Claude and Lysithea part behind them when they reach the altar, each standing behind their friend.

Ingrid clears her throat and smiles. She looks dashing in a fitted suit with her hair slicked back.

“Well, boys, here you are!”

Felix glares at her. The crowd laughs.

“Who would’ve thought the two of you…”

_ “Everyone thought!” _ the voice of Mercedes heckles. The crowd laughs again. Felix wishes dearly they were getting married in private at a courthouse.

“I suppose not everyone is blessed with otherworldly insight,” Ingrid jokes. “But if Mercedes thought, who can argue?”

Okay, that was actually pretty funny. Mercedes agrees.

“Now, dear friends, you stand before everyone who’s opinion has ever meant anything to you. No pressure.” Felix glares at her. Sylvain squeezes his hand. He looks at Sylvain and instantly melts under the soft look in his eyes. “It’s time to pledge the rest of your lives to one another. No, your stupid promise doesn’t count because nobody saw it. You have to do it again.”

Sylvain chuckles.

“Have you written your vows?”

Felix swallows. Sylvain pulls his out first.

“Yeah.” His voice is tight. Choked. So is Felix’s but that’s not his problem yet. “Yeah, I… I’ll go first.”

Ingrid gestures for him to continue. He nods.

“Fe… Felix Fraldarius.” His hands are shaking. Felix squeezes the one that isn’t holding up a single note card. “You… where do I even start?”

“With what you have written down.” Fuck, Felix’s voice is quiet. This is gonna be rough.

Sylvain laughs. “Yeah. Yeah, that.” A single tear finally falls and Felix wipes it away. “Felix Hugo Fraldarius, I’ve been in love with you since… I don’t know. I figured it out late.” He laughs at himself and everyone laughs with him, even Felix. “Since forever, probably. I love how serious you act and how softly you smile when you see something soft and kind. Cats. Ashe.” Felix considers leaving. “I… shit, I love how seriously you take your boring job. I love how you just want to make the world better. I… I love you, Felix. I love you.”

Sylvain rubs at Felix’s cheek with his thumb and Felix realizes he’s fucking crying.

“Fuck,” Felix mutters. Sylvain smiles encouragingly. There’s nobody else, as far as he’s concerned; they’re covered by Sylvain’s halo. “Yeah, let me just.”

He pulls his own notecard from his interior pocket. His aren’t nearly as good. He hopes Sylvain understands.

_ He will. _

“Sylvain, I…” he swallows. “Thanks. For everything. For, uh, understanding me, for being patient. I also love you. Uh, too. I love you, too.” Sylvain squeezes his hand. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I pledge to stand by you. Defend you. Live with you. Love you. Uh, until we die. Together.”

The closing line is lame. It touches Sylvain all the same.

“Well, that was corny.” Ingrid manages to piss Felix off and lighten the mood at the same time. “I pronounce you husband and husband! Before everyone you love, you may kiss!”

They do.

* * *

The reception hall is fucking gorgeous. It’s everything Annette promised; the sun is falling and the sky is painted in pinks and oranges and the soft string lights are on, bathing the space in a homely and yet ethereal glow. Annette directs them to a table for just the two of them at the head of the hall, surrounded by plants and lights and dreams.

“Claude and Lysithea will be right here,” Annette points to one of the two short rows of tables, “And everyone else supports you, too. We’re all here for you. It’s not just me, anymore.”

Felix nods. He’s shaking. He sits next to Sylvain and stands again when they do the first dance and sits again and stands again.

“I’m exhausted,” he mutters to Sylvain.

“It just started!”

“They keep making me dance.”

“Yeah, and you look  _ so  _ good when you do.”

He pushes Sylvain and he laughs. Dimitri approaches them to say goodbye. Then Raph. Then Caspar. 

“I’m still tired,” Felix mutters.

“Join the party,” Linhardt waves from his seat far, far away from the dancing. Felix sits with him.

“Why didn’t you leave with Caspar?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Felix doesn’t like that.

“Hey, Ingrid. Ew, stop that.”

Ingrid surgically removes herself from Leonie and fixes him with a flat stare.

“Sylvain has something planned. What is it.”

“I don’t care.”

“Ingrid.”

“Ask him! Geez, I don’t want to know about what freaky sex he has planned.”

Felix turns red and storms away to find Sylvain. He finds him easily; he’s a red, gold, cupcake eating spectacle of a man.

“Sylvain.”

“What?” he asks with his mouth full of chocolate torte.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Eat a spiced one, then!”

He glares skeptically at the tower of cupcakes labeled  _ spiced, chocolate torte, orange and lemon,  _ and  _ hazelnut praline. _ “No.”

“Whatever you say.”

“What do you have planned.”

“Hm?”

He gets real close and intimidating. Sylvain kisses him on the nose. He tries very, very hard to keep a straight face.

“What. Do you. Have planned.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” he says with a scheming smile. Like a schemer.

“Truly, no clue,” Claude interjects, leaning an elbow on Sylvain’s much taller shoulder.

“None,” Lysithea pops up to Felix’s side. She’s smirking. Ugh.

“Tell me. Now.”

“Wow, would you look at the time!” Claude looks at his wrist which is notably lacking a watch. “Wow, you’d better get out of here before you miss curfew! What do you say?”

Sylvain hastily puts his phone away that he snuck out. Felix raises an eyebrow. “Yep! We’d better get going! Thanks for the wonderful night!”

Annette, who is clearly  _ also _ in on this stupid plan, runs up and gives them both a hug.

“Get out! Shoo! Shoo!” She pushes them to the door and to their car and into the car doors and even shoos them as they’re driving off. Felix eyes Sylvain. The man’s grin could end wars.

“You’d better fucking tell me what’s going on.”

“Shh.” Sylvain rests his hand on Felix’s thigh. “It’s fine. Take this exit.”

“This isn’t the exit home.”

“Just take it.”

He hasn’t said no to Sylvain before, why the fuck would he start now.

* * *

“This is…”

“Yeah.”

“But —”

“Trust me.”

Felix reluctantly follows Sylvain up the concrete pathway to the door of the house they  _ just _ took possession of. The lights are on. There are cars parked out front.

Sylvain opens the door.

“Welcome home, babe,” he murmurs into Felix’s ear.

Inside, neatly organized, are stacks and stacks of boxes, clearly labeled and placed in each room they belong. Their furniture is haphazardly arranged and being carried by Raphael and Caspar, directed by Ignatz. Dimitri carries in another stack of three boxes and sets them on the floor.

“What. The fuck.”

Sylvain grins. “They offered to move us in as our gift.”

Felix doesn’t have anything to say, so he doesn’t say anything. He thought it’d be weeks before they had time to move.

“Ah! Welcome home!” Dimitri is  _ incredibly _ pink. “Um, we did exactly as you asked, Sylvain. These are the last of the boxes and, um, the bedroom is all set up.”

“Great!” Sylvain beams. Felix wants to die. “Thanks, guys. I think we can handle it from here.”

“Yes, congratulations,” Dimitri smiles, “Dedue will be waiting for me out front, I will see you two later. Have, um, a wonderful night.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”

Felix punches Sylvain. Then, after everyone’s left and the front door is locked, he kisses the shit out of him.

“Come on.” He takes Felix’s hand. “Follow me.”

Felix doesn’t let up. Even as they go up the stairs. Even as Sylvain fumbles to open the door to their new bedroom. Even as he has to locate the bed and push them there. Their clothes land on the floor and it’s fine, they can get them steamed before they’re returned. He pushes Sylvain onto his back and nudges his legs apart to climb between.

“What box is the lube in?” 

Sylvain points to a bag on the bedside table. This guy’s too fucking smart. He’s shivering when he returns.

“Are you cold?”

Sylvain smiles. “No. Just… wow.”

“Just wow?”

He nods. There’s something nervous in his eyes. Felix leans over him and presses their bodies together; presses Sylvain deep into the mattress. His dick gets hard between them and he exhales, slow and grounding.

“I’ve got you,” Felix tells him against his lips, “I’ve got you, and you’ve got me. I love you, Sylvain.”

“I love you too, Fe.”

That seems to solve it, whatever it was. They grind against one another, Felix takes them both in one lubed up hand and rubs them together. He works Sylvain open, swallows every one of his gasps and moans, massages his prostate to a chorus of  _ pleases _ and  _ mores. _ He eases himself in with a deep kiss, with a promise of their lives together as husbands, and when they’re finished and sticky and gross he helps Sylvain walk to their new, deep tub and this time he draws the water and washes them both off with a warm rag.

“This is nice,” Sylvain breathes. Felix nods against him in the hot water.

“Yeah,” he says, “It is.”

* * *

“Why didn’t you pack?!”

“What? You didn’t pack either!”

Felix ducks under Sylvain and grabs a handful of underwear. Hopefully it’s enough.

“Fuck!” He shouts when his repaired phone starts ringing. He answers and tucks it between his ear and his shoulder. “What? I’m on vacation!”

Stupid bullshit, stupid bullshit, stupid bullshit, stupid bullshit.

“You can take care of that! You know how!”

Stupid bullshit. Stupid bullshit.

“Shit, it’ll be fine! If you fuck it all up I’ll fix it when I’m back! Don’t call me unless someone dies!”

He hangs up the phone and fixes Sylvain with a stare.

“What?” Sylvain looks up from his phone.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Answering emails.”

“Fucking pack!”

They definitely forgot something important. It’ll definitely be a nightmare when they realize what it is  _ after _ they check into their honeymoon hotel on the coast near Nuvelle.

Airport security doesn’t give a shit about their plight. They check their bags, rush through the metal detectors, and run for their flight.

“Hope they get our bags on in time,” Sylvain shouts.

“They won’t!” Felix yells back.

At least they make their flight. Sylvain takes the window seat. Felix takes the middle. They hold hands over the arm rest.

“Are you ready?” Sylvain asks breathlessly. The light from the window causes his hair to glow. He could be an angel if he really wanted to be.

Felix nods. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was broke as fuck when i got married so you’d best beLIEVE i’m giving them the rich asshole wedding of my dreams. Yes i made a pinterest board
> 
> Anyway
> 
> Again, thank you all soooo so so so much for the love on moon & golden you! I started that fic impulsively just to see if i could finish it and i received so much more enthusiastic support than i ever imagined. It makes me really happy to hear what scenes meant a lot and what impacted different people, and even what’s hard to read because it’s a bit too real.
> 
> Idk, maybe i’ll write more in this au off and on. Think about the self-indulgent kidfic. Think about it!!!!!!
> 
> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/punchyfakegamer)


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